The Hades Contract: The Last Olympiad, #2

By Ken Mooney

Ken Mooney brings the demons and the Greek gods back to our world in the exciting sequel to Godhead.

Olympus has been restored, and demons ravage the world once more.

Aphrodite, ally to the demons for so long, has eaten of the sacred tree, her full powers restored; Hannah Noakes, daughter of Hera, claimed her birthright with a bloody murder that may be the loss of her soul. And Unity Vaughan has risen from the dead with the power to defeat a goddess.

To a dead god-king, they are all part of a bigger plan, a plan that is older than the city, older even than the gods.

Deep beneath Olympus, bound by the crystal roots of an impossible tree, the Father of Demons stirs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Breakwater Harbor Books
• Release date: May 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393623892

Ken Mooney

Since a young age, Ken Mooney wanted to save the world. Or at least to talk about it. It’s sort of an ongoing theme of his work, and he doesn’t realise that until after he’s written something, only to find out that it’s bang on-trend, and that just makes him love it all the more. Ken has worked in TV advertising, market research and even got his start in the dreaded world of call-centres. He holds an MA in English from Trinity College Dublin. Stories have always been his first love, and in amongst reading all those comics, watching all those films and playing all those video games, he wanted to share his own stories. Ken has written two fantasy novels: Godhead and The Hades Contract bring the Greek gods to the present day in a dark horror, with a number of complimentary shorts. He has contributed to a number of anthologies and published two non-fiction books: The Little Book Of The End Of The World is a tongue-in-cheek look at different thoughts and theories on the end of the world and The Astrocytoma Diaries chronicles that time he got diagnosed with a brain tumour. He has also written Tackling The Issue and After The Tackle, gay romance focusing on some of the angers and fears in the LGBTQ community, You can reach Ken on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads and his own website and blog. Ken lives in Dublin, Ireland with his husband.

Book preview

THEN

Aphrodite’s feet navigated the spiral of stone steps as if she had walked them hundreds of times: the stone was steep, uncertain but no obstacle to her haste. With each step, the air around her grew colder, a moistness that came from the rivers below.

Her heart beat fast, pumping blood to her temples: every organ felt heavy with her pulse, as if she would explode if she stopped willing herself to take her next step.

Aphrodite would have gladly faced death. Some part of her wanted to embrace the sweet oblivion that meant she wouldn’t have to live without him.

But she had a task which was greater than her heart's desires.

The steps ended in a low archway with darkness beyond; twin braziers burst into flames as soon as she stepped through the portal, revealing a long, grand room. She would have called it a cave but this place was bedecked with the design of some being, man, god or otherwise.

A long path stretched before her, wide enough for a carriage, though no such thing could reach the Low Temple except by the steps she had just walked. The braziers were placed along this path, close enough to continue lighting the way, but far enough to keep the distance between each flame in certain darkness. The shadows danced throughout the entirety of the room, like a cloud dancing across the face of the moon.

The rivers that flowed to each side were narrower than the rushing and babbling suggested, turning the path into a central pier between two channels of water. Each moved in its own direction, but both vanished into darkness and shadow: one of these rivers brought life, the other carried away all to whatever lay beyond.

The further banks, separated from the pier by the rivers, were shrouded in darkness: in the low light Aphrodite could see steps rising into the darkness. The effect turned the area into an auditorium, as if she was a gladiator in the center of an arena.

From those steps, she felt the eyes of the dead on her, staring into her soul, but she could not return the sentiment.

Hades was not in this temple: the giant, granite throne that dominated the far end of the room sat empty. The obsidian wall behind it acted as a mirror, reflecting the room back at any who dared look directly at it.

Hades!

She hitched her skirts, an act that allowed her to walk faster: the throne seemed so far away, an impossible distance made all the more notable by the mirror-like wall behind it.

Hades, I would speak with my husband. I know you can hear me.

A cracking noise filled the room, echoing against its stone walls and its high ceiling as if they threatened to fall on her for her impertinence.

And then he appeared, a pillar of smoke before her, wisps flurrying together until they formed a human shape.

Hades suited this place, a god of darkness and shadows, of greys and blacks. He was tall, but the lighting from the braziers made him taller, creating shadows on his eyes and face. Broad shoulders gave way to strong arms, rippling with the black lines of tattoos that moved beneath his skin, constantly changing shapes and designs.

On his head, he wore the Crown of Bones: none but him knew the truth of its origins, whether it was truly crafted of the polished bones of some great human. Or was it thin, pure marble, so common elsewhere in the city. A smooth skullcap of this bone-and-stone covered his head, his short, black hair with its shocks of grey teased around his temples. The crown also covered his forehead, providing a face and a nose through which his eyes peeked curiously.

Those eyes moved all around the room except at Aphrodite. She raised her shoulders, daring him to acknowledge her with more than just his words.

Aphrodite, we do not have the time for this. We are at war. What she could see of his face softened, his lips parted as if he searched for some appropriate words. I am sorry for your loss, though. I am sorry that I could not bring you the news myself.

She took a deep breath: tears stung her eyes again, the tremor in her chest spread to her shoulders.

I did not need someone else to tell me, Hades. My heart knew the moment it happened.

Hades moved closer to her, bringing his right hand forward to touch her shoulder as if his touch would bring her some small comfort.

I cannot begin to know how you feel. But now is not the time for goodbyes. Soon, when this is over, I can bring him to you once more.

The tears flooded her eyes as she bit her lip. She felt her blonde curls brushing over her shoulders as she shook her head.

This is not about goodbyes, Hades. There are urgent things I need to discuss with him. She placed her hand on his, holding it close against her. You know that of which I speak, the things beneath this city, the reasons why the demons are coming.

A wry smile formed on Hades’ lips. He leaned forward to kiss Aphrodite’s forehead, his stubble scratching against her nose.

You know far more about this war than you have let us believe, Aphrodite. Zeus believes that the risks are only to our city, to our people, not the myths that we protect beneath it.

They are no myths, Hades. I have felt its presence. It is not as hidden as we would like. It is everywhere.

The smile died from his lips as they turned a grim white, pursed against the knowledge she had spoken.

Very well, I will summon his soul. But we cannot linger. I am needed on the battlefield.

Even in the darkness of the temple, Hades’ eyes shone a brilliant white as he worked his magic, the tattoos moved along his arms like snakes. He took a deep breath, stepping towards Aphrodite once more, his shoulders and neck being the first clue that his body language had changed, adopting something far more familiar.

He looked around, as if it was the first time he had seen this place, uncertain of both his surroundings and why he was here. But truth in his eyes confirmed that Aphrodite’s husband now occupied this body. Hephaestus was no fool: he knew that this was not his body, and there could be only one reason why he was in the Low Temple.

When he spoke, it was Hades’ voice that came forth, but he spoke with the intonation and inflexion of the man she had fallen in love with.

Aphrodite, my love .

The tears flowed freely down her face as she moved forward to embrace him. Her legs were like stone, fixed to a spot that she could not move from. She could only look at him, feeling the wrenching pain in her chest.

Hephaestus. I am sorry I could not save you.

You should not be sorry. I would not have you witness my fall on the battlefield. War is no place for a goddess such as you. His eyes lowered towards her stomach, a smile flowering on his lips. There are other souls for you to protect now.

She sobbed, the shaking enveloping her shoulders, her arms and her legs. Her jaw tightened as she struggled to retain some of the strength she had lost the moment he had spoken her name.

You knew I am with child?

Of course I knew. But it was not for me to discuss until you wished me to know.

You don’t belong in this place, Hephaestus. You belong with me, with us.

I belong wherever the Fates would have me.

Then I will speak to them and make them hear my tears, I will plead and beg until they rewrite your fate, as only they can do.

Sadness crept over his face, a sigh escaping his lips.

It is not my fate that you have come here to discuss, my love.

His words strengthened her, and she tried to stand erect once more.

You are right. It is about the Voice, that which sleeps beneath the mountain. If the demons enter the city, they will find a way to free it.

He tried not to laugh.

There is no if, Aphrodite. The force that they have amassed beyond these walls will overpower us, there is no doubt about that. You should not be here when that happens.

I cannot abandon the city, my love. This is our home, it is where our child will grow. And Zeus has damned it all by going to meet the demons on the battlefield.

He cuts a mighty swathe. He is confident of our victory.

I wish I could say the same. What can I do, Hephaestus?

You flee. The moment these demons break through our walls. Zeus will have a plan for when the worst happens.

I will not flee. They will hunt me until I draw my last breath.

This time, he did not resist the laughter: it boomed around the Low Temple, loud enough to drown even the babbling waters for just a moment.

You will not defeat them, Aphrodite. Even with your great strength, they will wash over you like a plague.

Then I will not try.

Her lips tightened with her strength, with the plan that formed in her head, with its multitude of shapes and options.

What if the tree could be destroyed?

That would destroy the city and all of us. Olympus would fall, and every god with it.

And is that such a bad thing if it means triumph over Kaos?

You would destroy our kind and our way of life to eliminate the enemy? A wide smile spread across his lips. You are a braver goddess than I ever thought. My brother Ares calls himself a warmonger, but I see tactics and theories running through your mind that would rival the goddess Athena.

You think it a good plan? You think I could succeed where others have failed?

I think you cannot do it alone, however proud and powerful you might be.

And can you name a god of this great city who would help me?

He shook his head.

Our kin are too consumed by war to see this larger scale. Their petty jealousies blind them to the truths under their gaze. If you act, your actions will be misunderstood.

I know the hearts and minds of man and god alike, and I can hide my heart from them all. I will act beneath the cover of darkness, I will do what needs to be done to save the heart of this city, or destroy that which sleeps beneath it.

And if the other gods stop you?

Then I will play the villain. I will keep their enemies close until I can destroy them from within.

You will ally yourself with Kaos?

If it means its ultimate destruction.

You are mad, Aphrodite. You have been overtaken by grief and anger, and you will get yourself killed.

Then I will join you, and none of this will matter.

She reached forward, touching his face, but his skin felt different from everything it should have been: this was not her husband’s face, only his soul, summoned to occupy the body of Hades, Lord of Death. Although his body responded to her touch, it was not in the way she wished: her husband was gone, and there was no way she could bring him back.

Hephaestus, I will see you again, I will feel your touch once more. And we will be reunited. But I need to speak with Hades. Only he can help me with this plan.

My love, do not do this.

She shook her head, a finger raised to his lips.

It is too late for me to save you, we both know that. Allow me to save myself. Do not say goodbye, Hephaestus. Or I will join you far quicker than expected.

Aphrodite closed her eyes, fighting back more tears as she turned away from him. A moment later, he coughed, a subtle noise, an announcement that Hades had returned and was himself once more. When she turned back to face him, she thought it was pity that she saw on his skeletal features.

You know what we spoke of?

He nodded.

I know. I do not agree with you, however. Aphrodite, if this city falls, you should not be here. This is not your war.

But I take it on my shoulders. I am prepared to do that which nobody else will.

And you will die for it.

Hades, you of all people know that death is not the end. If I die, I will be reunited with my husband.

Not if you have made yourself an enemy of the city.

She reached forward, taking his hand, holding his strong fingers in her palm.

Then you will forgive me, absolve me of my sins.

Why would I do such a thing?

Aphrodite smiled, but there was no warmth in her features: it was a wickedness that channelled her anger and sorrow.

Because I know that this is your fault, Hades. I know that the only reason Typhon survives is because you failed.

THREE WEEKS AGO

I.

It tasted like forever.

The petals melted on Hannah’s tongue like sugar, tingling across her taste buds with their mixture of sweet honey and dark coffee.

Time and space rushed through her veins, thumping in her chest and through her head. Her bones seemed to connect with the earth beneath her, making her one with the mountain, with the city, and with the world beyond.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her senses, but was overwhelmed by the sweetness that filled her sinuses and her lungs. She coughed, breathing out quickly, but surprised herself with the taste of blood at the back of her throat.

The Great Temple spun around her as she tried to stand, shapes and colors that she had never imagined forcing themselves into her field of vision. She closed her eyes to fight against them, but the spinning continued, the shapes and colors remained, explosions of white light on a field of yellow and red.

Her hands found her knees as she bent forward, closing her eyes ever tighter until the blackness seeped in and suppressed the colors.

Steady yourself, Hannah. It will pass.

The hand on her shoulder was cold, smooth as alabaster, but Hannah drew strength from it as its fingers squeezed. She drew comfort from its presence, but a host of other emotions rose alongside it: there was despair, sadness, and just a sliver of hope.

It took a moment to identify the voice, for Hannah’s memory to catch up with this moment, for the hours, days and years to remind her why she so reviled this woman who touched her.

Hannah pulled away from Aphrodite, opening her eyes and turning to face the goddess who had become her enemy in so many ways.

The world spun as she moved, lurching in every direction as shadows and auras stretched from each corner of the Great Temple. A blazing light emanated from the tree at the center of the room, shining with an intensity that burned into her vision, blurring everything she looked at.

But Aphrodite’s presence remained fixed, a steady point that she could not look away from.

You! What did you do?

Even as she spoke the words, the last few moments played out in Hannah’s memory: her hands on Lawson’s head, the crack as his skull gave way beneath her blows, as her powers tore his body apart atom by atom. The thoughts made her stomach churn, like slick oil reaching down her throat and threatening to purge everything she had ever eaten as punishment for this dark action.

Aphrodite’s response threatened to mock her, absolving the goddess from all her evils.

What did I do?

Hannah looked down, unable to watch Aphrodite, unable to think of anything more than the blood that she had washed off her hands with that sacred spring. The goddess moved forward, but Hannah took a step back, her eyes wide, her head shaking.

Don’t come near me.

Hannah waved her hand and Aphrodite flinched, deep incisions appearing across her face and neck. She winced in pain at these new scars, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the wounds to knit and heal as quickly as they had appeared.

Hannah, that’s enough. Calm down or you’ll injure yourself. You need to let this moment pass.

Aphrodite moved quickly, the distance between them disappearing as she grabbed Hannah’s wrist, another hand on her chin, pulling her head up and looking into her face. It was no gentle motion, and Hannah tensed herself, ready for some attack that never came.

The feelings that ran through her were comfort and confidence, not the anger and pain that they should have been.

What’s happening to me?

Aphrodite smiled. It surprised Hannah to see warmth there, some gentleness in her eyes, empathy on the genuine lines of her lips.

You’re becoming a god, Hannah. You’ve eaten the blossom of the tree, you’ve welcomed the Essence into your body.

Hannah felt her blood quicken, her breath becoming shallower as her heartbeat filled her ears.

This isn’t what I wanted. I only wanted to hear him say he betrayed us, to hear why he did it.

Aphrodite laughed, a gentle song that rippled through the air.

Lawson? Hannah, he was doomed from the moment he betrayed the Circle. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have done so. He didn’t deserve this gift of power, and I would never have allowed him to take it.

A gift? This is a gift?

Can’t you see it? Can’t you see how the world responds to you?

Hannah could feel her face responding, ready to laugh at Aphrodite’s words. But the goddess was not listening. She seized Hannah’s wrist, pulling her towards one of the Great Temple’s many balconies, positioning her to look out upon the city of Olympus.

Hannah could never have prepared herself for such a sight: even after millennia of the demons wandering the city, ruining its buildings and making filthy its glories, Olympus still retained some of the grandeur that she expected.

The city stretched out, rising to meet the neighbouring mountains, white marble walls glistening in the sunlight, golden roofs blazing like stars that had been cast to earth. Somewhere beyond the buildings, a river broke through the earth, marking the border of the city and the starts of the woodlands beyond.

And then she saw the wall, the great mountain that had been torn down in Aphrodite’s rage and pain, the entrance through which the demons had entered the city.

The exit through which they had left once the city was restored.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Aphrodite turned to look at her, and it was only now that Hannah noticed the goddess’s eyes blazing with the white energy that marked her power. The smile on Aphrodite’s lips was confident and powerful, that of a queen surveying her land.

I’m trying to purge every last trace of the demons from the city. What you see now is only the start of the city’s rebirth.

Hannah tried to pull her gaze away, but the sight was too striking: sunlight arced across the city and in her new state of awareness she could see each beam, each ray, follow its path and its origins. There were creatures moving within the city, flies, rats, mosquitoes: on the fringes of her awareness. Hannah could count each one, felt their hunger and their primal desires.

This is what you wanted all along. To return to Olympus.

Aphrodite didn’t turn: her gaze continued to focus on the distance. Hannah followed her line of sight, her eyes drawn to the ground beneath the fractured mountain. In her new awareness, she saw that corner through the mists of history, saw a man working there, saw him embrace his wife and the tears that Aphrodite had shed as she mourned his loss.

Aphrodite swallowed hard.

No, this is not what I wanted. It is a means to an end, neither of which I thought were possible. I have done things you can never imagine, pursuing a goal, and I never realized how to truly achieve it.

I have some good ideas of the things you’ve done.

Hannah’s memory replayed scenes as vividly as if each had happened only the day before. There was that first moment Aphrodite had entered her life: that moment that had changed her life forever. She followed the fine threads of her past: saw how her life had led to this moment, how each action after her mother’s death had created a world in which she had just become a god.

When Aphrodite spoke once more, there was sadness in her voice, an emotion that Hannah never expected to hear.

I’m well aware of the things I did that hurt you, Hannah. But I never did them for that reason. I thought that I was doing what needed to be done. And now you are where you need to be. This is where we both need to be.

So you manipulated me. For what?

Hannah ...

So you wouldn’t feel guilty any longer?

Aphrodite turned, and the sadness that Hannah had heard in her voice was now visible in the red rings around her eyes. Their conversation changed in tone and the sisterly act was dropped: this was respect, but not some attempt at familial love. Aphrodite needed her, and there was more to all of this than she would dare to say.

When she spoke, she spat the words.

Guilt is such a human emotion, Hannah. You are no longer human, and I never was. Aphrodite raised her chin defiantly, tilting her head to one side. You are the first of a new breed, Hannah, the first god born to this wold in thousands of years. Can’t you feel how the earth responds to you?

The earth is broken. You took a massive chunk out of it by bringing this city back into existence.

Aphrodite shook her head.

You couldn’t be more wrong. The earth is whole once more.

Hannah laughed, but it only served to make Aphrodite angrier. Her shoulders straightened, anger and spittle on her lips.

You think I did this for selfish reasons, and you won’t hear otherwise. If I were as selfish as you believe, we would never have crossed paths. I was never your enemy, Hannah. Though I needed you to believe it. I needed all the gods to believe it. She stepped forward, urgency still in her eyes, speaking through clenched teeth. I need to know something, Hannah. Can you hear it? Can you hear the voice beneath the mountain?

Hannah stared blankly at her, shaking her head as she spoke.

You’re mad, Aphrodite. There’s nobody here but us.

I know. But there’s something deeper. Something so deep beneath the mountain that the gods were able to ignore it. And I need to know if you can hear it. Focus. Please.

Aphrodite’s eyes warmed: there was something like fear in her eyes, something that made her sound like she was begging.

Hannah closed her eyes, allowing sensations to wash over her, feeling the city, the Temple and Aphrodite around her. Everything about it seemed alive, colors and smells and sights and tastes that could never be experienced by a human. And now, with her greater powers, she saw and felt new things, different things that she could not make sense of looking through the eyes of a goddess.

Her heart beat faster, ready to embrace these new sensations, but something distracted her, a cold darkness that stirred down below. Even as she tried to ignore it, it loomed closer, reaching forward with tendrils that chilled her to the core.

She opened her eyes and saw Aphrodite looking back at her with relief.

What is that?

Aphrodite turned away, her lips and jaw grim.

That is the heart of Kaos, the thing that has corrupted both gods and humanity, that has birthed demons and evils that we should not speak of in this place.

Waves of knowledge washed over Hannah. She recognized this thing: she had sensed it only hours before, deep at the core of Aphrodite’s being. She reached out once more, using her new gifts to observe the goddess through different eyes: the pit was no longer there. Instead, Aphrodite shone with a bright light, the glow of a pure goddess.

That darkness, that Kaos: it was in you. I’ve never felt it so strong though.

It’s in all of us, Hannah. It’s in the tree itself. It’s a secret that the gods either knew and ignored, or simply refused to destroy. It kept them alive, but it endangered everything. She looked